From Texas to Colorado
by arthur14357
Summary: Alfred F. Jones, at 19 years old, still lives with his divorced mother in Texas. When he meets a cranky Englishman four years his senior, he is forced to reconsider who he really is; being raised in a religious household, sometimes it feels as though nothing can ever be simple. (USUK; rating may go up but probably not)
1. Prologue

"Hold still."

Arthur gently pressed his fingers to Alfred's cheek. His fingers were so soft. When he pulled them back, he let out an airy laugh. An eyelash.

"Make a wish," he said. He was smiling. Arthur wasn't like this as often as he wasn't; Alfred couldn't help but smile back.

"Hmm." Alfred knew he was joking; Arthur didn't believe in wishes of any kind. Alfred thought they were novelty, too, but he would like to think they hold some merit as well. He thought on it, and blew the lash from his finger tips.

"What did you wish for?" he asked, his voice holding hints of laughter.

"To get out of this dump of a town and take you with me," he spoke with confidence, but Alfred did feel kind of trapped.

"Alfred," he said, sickeningly sweet. It made him feel as though he had just given him a gift. "It's not that bad, love."

He sighed. "I dunno, man. I feel like I'm drowning here, some days."

Arthur sighed, too, and pressed his head into Alfred's neck. His hair was soft, too, and it tickled. "I know what you mean, Al."


	2. Sunday

Alfred hated going to church, but he did it almost every Sunday, even as a teenager; even when he turned 18. Whenever he tried to get out of it because he simply didn't want to go, his mother gave him grief. Eventually, Alfred resigned to taking the occasional day off rather than to stop going completely in order to keep his parents happy. This was not one of those days.

Church was suffocating. It had gotten easier with time. The faster he accepted he was stuck in the pews for the next hour, the faster the time would pass, he'd come to learn. Alfred thought about what to prepare for dinner; it was his night to cook.

He had totally spaced out when his mother nudged him. Her head was bowed and she had one eye shut. "Alfie, pray," she whispered.

Everyone else had their eyes shut and heads bowed. Alfred felt embarrassment only briefly before bowing his head as well, silently hoping no one had noticed he was the only one not praying. _I supposed they couldn't have, with their eyes being shut and all._ He continued to think about dinner instead of praying.

Alfred didn't consider himself to be an atheist, but he didn't consider himself particularly religious, either. Religion sort of bummed the young man out, and while he had his doubts, Alfred still wasn't ready to let go of the idea of God. _If I'm wrong, I'll go to hell_ , he would think.

The sermon ended and, along with his family, he stood to head home as the people filed out of the pews, out of the small church.

"Anybody hungry? Who wants to go out for lunch?" his mother directed the question to the rest of the group, but it was really more of an invitation than a suggestion. Alfred's father nodded, and Matthew (Alfred's brother. He could startle a ghost.) quietly replied, "that sounds good, ma'am."

"Alfred?" she looked then looked his way. Alfred's heart sank a little.

"Uh, nah. I'm good, you guys go on without me."

She looked disappointed and he felt bad. "Oh, well. See you at home, dear."

As they parted ways, Alfred pulled his cell phone from his pocket to check his inbox. _Nothing._ He flipped it shut and dropped it back into his pocket as he went to go grocery shopping before he had his own lunch.

Hamburgers.

Alfred _loved_ hamburgers.

He piled buns, (semi-)fresh vegetables, classic American cheese, and some cheap beef patties into the grocery basket. Alfred didn't mind buying cheap, though he couldn't deny the pricier foods tasted better- but he felt like enough of a leech as it was.

When he had finished picking out ingredients, and shuffled past the checkouts, he realized what a grave mistake he'd made coming to the biggest grocery store in his little town. It was August, and the new school year was revving its engine; people bustled through stuffed aisles, piling pencils, notebooks, erasers, and folders into carts. The food aisles had been relatively empty, but he was still somewhat rocked by his failure to take notice to just how crowded it really was. Each checkout line seemed to be at least five carts long, and it suddenly hit him an infant could be heard wailing form somewhere in the vicinity.

He'd expected it to be busy, but not like this. He began to wish he'd gone the extra mile and shopped at the less flooded, but more expensive grocery store.

Resigning to his fate, Alfred picked one of the shorter lines and fell into it. Actually, it wasn't very long at all. An old woman with twenty-too-many coupons clutched in her shaking grasp held up the queue of only one other customer. He seemed to be the only one willing to take his chances waiting for the woman to finish rather than move to longer line. The clerk seemed to be in distress.

Alfred watched intently as the old woman fumble with her apparently expired coupons (hence the hold-up.) As he grew bored, he didn't really think much about it before tapping on the shoulder of the man in front of him in the line.

"This lady is taking forever, huh?" he blurted.

"What?" when he turned to face Alfred, the first thing he noticed was his thick eyebrows. It was kind of cute, in a weird sort of way. The second thing he noticed was his accent; British. He didn't live in a crowded area; his town was quite small. Yet, he'd never seen this man before. He was sure he'd remember those eyebrows on that accent.

"Uh, just, that lady. She's been up there a long time," he explained lamely. The man gave him a very unsubtle why-are-you-talking-to-me look before he spoke again.

"You don't even know," he spoke quietly and leaned back towards him, as if trying to make sure the old woman would not hear. "I've been here for ten minutes. She is convinced her coupons are _not_ expired, but they must be if the cashier _still_ hasn't taken them."

"Wow," he said.

"Indeed, wow," replied the man. They fell into silence, but Alfred could've swore the man was continuing to casually sneak glances at him and trying to pass them off as examining his surroundings. Though, he wasn't sure why he would be doing that.

As the elderly woman was finishing checking out (finally), Alfred decided to ask. "Is there something on my face?"

He seemed to turn a little red. _Weird._

"No! I was only wondering if...if you'd like to go now," he explained. "Check out, I mean."

"Really?" blurted Alfred, and without waiting for an answer, "Thanks, man!"

He nodded, and stepped aside to allow Alfred to check out first. As the cashier rung up the items, he turned to look at the older (?) man. "Uh, I'm Alfred, by the way. Jones- Alfred Jones."

He raised an eyebrow. It made Alfred want to laugh, seeing that quizzical expression on those brows. "Arthur Kirkland. It's nice to meet you, Alfred."

So fancy. He was weird by Alfred's standards, and he liked that.

When the cashier gave him his receipt, he tore a piece off and scribbled down his number while both Arthur and the cashier gave him odd looks. He pressed it into Arthur's hand; a gesture that was a little more friendly than he meant it to come off, probably. He barely knew the guy.

"Uh, my number. We should talk some time- there aren't a lot of guys like you around here."

The cashier seemed to be looking embarrassed now, and so did Arthur. _Back it up, Alfred..._

"I mean, British. And polite. Uh, I gotta go. Call me!"

He walked as fast as he could out of the building without making it look like an Olympic sport as his cheeks burned. Alfred's heart was pounding now. _What was that, dude?_

The whole walk home, Alfred tried not to think too much about the whole vaguely bizarre encounter. Fortunately, the moment he got home and found his family gathered in the living room, watching the television, he was able to push it out of his mind. Any awkwardness he felt about his suddenly inadequate social skills passed, and he greeted his brother and parents before preparing dinner.

He did not get a call back that night- and he began to forget about the event entirely over the next few days- but he would another.


	3. Rotary Dial

**AUTHOR NOTE Hey its been a while lmao... im gonna finish something i start for once. reviews on better writing would be appreciated i know i dont do it much. critique is welcome. hope u like**

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Arthur was never good with these things.

It'd been a few days since he had met that handsome stranger, and he really didn't want to bother him. He didn't really know him; but he wanted to try.

Arthur didn't have many friends. Being rejected by the church, his father, and his brothers seemed to have caused him to isolate himself from the rest of the world.

He'd waited the "proper amount of days," on advice from a man who less than a friend, and more than a stranger- a flamboyant Frenchman he'd met some time ago- but was reliable (when he wanted to be.) Francis, his name, was something of an old friend, but without really being his friend. They didn't really get along, and despite their mutual disdain of each other, they were really the only people who tolerated the others' fits when they were at their worst.

When Arthur had called him up, in order to seek advice- not that he truly valued his opinion, rather he hadn't anyone else to ask and Francis was known to be quite a social butterfly now- he had been wringing the spiral cord in his nervous fingers, torn between frustration at Francis' delayed response and relief that perhaps he wasn't available, perhaps he could just-

The phone had seemed to click in reply, as if to tell him there was no going back now. That he should at least _try_ to see this through to the end.

"Bonjour, c'est Francis qui parle."

"Francis, it's me," he said, biting back adding, "Must you always answer the phone in French, you twat? Who is that for?" For once, he wasn't looking to pick a fight with the man.

"Ah, Arthur! To what to I owe the pleasure, mon cher?"

Arthur would've blushed if he hadn't had years to adjust to Francis' numerous pet names, all of which he seemed to use for everybody. "I need a favor," Arthur replied petulantly.

He could almost hear Francis grinning through the crackle of the phone when he spoke again.

"Hmm. What kind of favor?"

"Relationship advice," he turned red when he realized how it sounded. "But not like that! I met a guy, and-"

"It sure _sounds_ like its _like that_ ," Francis interjected, but Arthur furiously rambled on.

"I thought I would give him a call, because I'm _lonely_ , you arse- but not like that!" he hurried to explain. It suddenly hit him how dumb this was, and he wanted to hang up. Arthur wished he wasn't so socially inept nowadays, due to becoming a recluse.

Francis made some crack about liking him, was he cute, was he tall. Arthur told him to shut up.

When the other end of the line went quiet, he wasn't sure what Francis was thinking now. He never seemed to shut up.

"I didn't mean to literally stop talking, Francis," he finally said.

That annoying, bubbling laugh cackled through the phone speakers.

"You still haven't told me what you are specifically seeking advice on."

"Oh. Right," Arthur realized that was true, and after brushing off brief embarrassment, continued; "I met him at a grocery store. He gave me his number and... how soon is too soon? To call him, I mean."

Francis laughed again. "Chéri, you are overthinking this. How long ago was that?"

Arthur told him it had been that day. Despite also having told him not to overthink it, he told him not to wait too long, but not to call too soon. Whatever that meant.

And so, Arthur took great care in not waiting too long, but not calling immediately. He decided three days was good, and waited three days.

When the time finally arrived, a date Arthur himself had set, he found he was very nervous. He always avoided these things, though, and he'd had enough of that.

Arthur rung up the number in his rotary dial, and waited for an answer.

"Hey, this is Al. Who's this?"

Suddenly Arthur was overcome with an overwhelming urge to hang up, or go back in time. Instead, he reintroduced himself.

"This is Arthur. Kirkland," he said when he'd found his voice, and then added, as if an unspoken question begged an answer, "we met at the grocery store."

He was quiet for a moment. Maybe he had waited too long, after all. He was never any good with new relationships, or phone calls.

Then, he could hear him laugh. "Oh, yeah! That! I almost forgot about that. How've you been, dude?"

Arthur suddenly felt incredibly silly for being so nervous and for not calling any sooner. "Um, fine. How have you been?" was his automatic response.

He had expected a generic "good" in response, but a long-suffering sigh crackled through the phone.

"Bored," he ground out. For some reason, that made Arthur's heart flutter. But also prickle with irriation- it didn't give him much to work with.

"Haven't you got a job? Or something?"

"Nope."

 _Alright then. Maybe this was a bad idea, after all. We don't have anything to talk about._

Before Arthur could despair at his social skills, his curse of awkwardness, Alfred spoke again.

"Hey, so, I'd been thinking, if you ever called, we could get coffee sometime? Or something?"

An out. Thank God.

"Yes, that would be wonderful," he said. _Wonderful?_

 _"Great!_ See you then, Art! Tomorrow, 9 o' clock, the one near [redacted] and [redacted]! Be there, or be square!" before "Art" could respond, there was a click, and Alfred was gone. _Well,_ t _hat was rude._

Still, he felt an anxious sort of excitement bubbling in his gut. He hadn't been invited out for coffee in quite some time- he began to wonder if he had ever been. Even _before_ , people didn't opt to associate with him outside of necessity often.

The following day was a Thursday. Arthur entered the coffee shop with a lovely chiming of bells, and purveyed the interior for his most recent acquaintance.

Arthur couldn't see him, at first. Then he realized, he couldn't locate him anywhere in the joint. He wondered if he was early as he checked his watch- he was right on time.

Taking a seat in a far corner, Arthur chose to wait- it was only 09:01 anyway. He supposed right on time was a little early for the American. He pulled out a book from his bag to read while he waited.

For a little shop, there were quite a few customers, he noticed. Each jingle of bells as the door swung open incited him to turn and check if Alfred had arrived. At 9:10, he finally showed. Arthur was beginning to think he'd been stood up.

Alfred's eyes scanned the area before landing on the frumpy man in the corner glaring at him. His eyes lit up with recognition and he smiled as he approached. "Hey, man, I'm sorry I'm a little late, ha."

Arthur squinted. "A _little_ late?" Oops. He hadn't totally meant to say that out loud.

"Well, only ten minutes! Don't be mad," he was smiling and laughing, but something about the request to not "be mad" struck Arthur as having an undertone of genuineness.

"That's true. I wasn't waiting too long, anyway. I had my book."

Alfred seemed to be immediately interested. Arthur could imagine he was easy to please. He probably had many friends. "Let me see!" he commanded.

Arthur huffed but slid his book over to him. "You've probably heard of it."

Alfred began flipping through the worn, yellowed pages. He laughed. "Hey, this is pretty boring, dude."

"Hmph. Maybe if you aren't willing to properly read it, it would seem that way. It's... like a modern fable."

"Hmm. Yeah, whatever. Thanks for letting me look," he slid the book back to Arthur.

He began to think they might not have much in common- he knew not to judge a book by its cover, but he couldn't help it. Alfred seemed to be kind of all over the place, and he had no idea what he liked- but it probably wasn't literature. Or, maybe it was.

Arthur cleared his throat idly as he slipped the book back into his bag. He felt at a loss again. Fortunately, Alfred didn't even seem to need to think about it in order to pick up any slack.

"Sooo... you're British?"

"English, but yes."

Alfred hummed. "What are you doing here, then? Are you visiting?"

"I moved, obviously."

"Obviously," Alfred mimicked, with laughter in his eyes.

"Well, I-I wouldn't have been able to find this place so easily if I didn't live here. Who'd want to visit some dump in Texas anyway?" he defended, feeling a little silly.

And so it continued; Arthur found it quickly becoming easier and easier to talk to him, though he barely knew him. He found nothing he said seemed to rub Alfred the wrong way, and he never let the conversation peter out until it was _just the right time._ Arthur thought he was like some sort of... small talk wizard.

They just talked for a while, and it was nice. Arthur felt something like pride glowing warmly glowing inside him. He _could_ do this; he _could_ have friends, if he wanted to. That would show _them._


	4. Brevity

**AUTHOR NOTE heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeey... i cant write still for shit but... wanted to post SOMETHING since its been a while... and i dont wanna quit.. really short dumb chapter.. hopefully i will start writing longer chapters it might take a while though im still not very good with writing.**

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Alfred found himself spending a lot of time with Arthur after they had coffee together; at first, it was mostly phone calls. He'd been pretty popular in high school, but most of his friends had moved on to college. Alfred mainly socialized with his family; Francis was probably his only friend who regularly had time for him, and he'd rather spend that time with his brother when he got the chance.

Alfred called him a lot when he got bored, which was pretty often. Arthur was kinda grouchy most of the time, and rude, but he still wanted to get to know him better. He was funny in his own kind of weird way, and really interesting, and he knew a lot about history- Alfred liked history, too, but found it kind of difficult to read about at length.

Most of the time when he called, he'd answer sounding annoyed. Alfred couldn't figure out why, but after a while, he would loosen up, and Alfred began to think he needed someone to talk to more than he did. From what he'd told him, Arthur sounded pretty lonely. Alfred kinda felt bad for him, even though he'd probably give him a punch to the arm if he expressed pity for him.

He'd learned a lot about Arthur, and one of those things was he had pride, too. Probably more pride, even if he looked kind of like a rejected Harry Potter character with his twiggy frame, shaggy hair, and frumpy clothes.

They'd had some bizarrely personal conversations, considering their fresh relationship. They were hardly friends. Or at least, Alfred didn't know if they were; he'd like to think they were, though. At they very least, he was sure enjoyment of each others' company was mutual.

"My mother passed a few years back. I haven't seen my father or my baby brother since the funeral; my other brothers just kind of scattered about. Haven't heard from them either," he spat the last sentence as if it were vile, but his tone softened as he spoke again. "I do miss them, sometimes."

"Why don't you just talk to them? How hard could they be to find?"

"The feeling is probably not mutual. We had a falling out." Somehow, Alfred got the feeling that was an understatement. He waited as if he would go on, but Arthur went quiet.

Alfred hesitated briefly before deciding to delve into his own family. He wasn't sure he wanted to hear about it, but he seemed done talking about his own. It felt right to share, now; like he owed him something for the information. Not that he had much to supply, the way he saw it; but it was worth trying.

"Well, I don't always get along with my own brother either. Or my cousins. Or my dad even, sometimes. He cheated on my mom, you know." That got his attention. He seemed to stop thinking about whatever he was... thinking about.

"Oh?"

"Yeah. My brother is actually Canadian! My dad had an affair on a business trip or something. I was really young at the time, so I don't really have any memories of what that was like. It's hard to really be all that upset about it."

The conversation drifted into a somewhat awkward silence.

"My parents are divorced, too, I mean."

He went quiet again, as if hesitating.

"At least you're in touch. My father never writes or calls unless there's been an emergency."

Then it was Alfred's turn to go silent. "Uh, wow. Bummer."

A sigh crackled through the phone. "Sorry. I suppose I'm not quite used to talking about these things. I didn't mean to make things out to be so depressing. Perhaps that was too personal."

"Uh," Alfred stated. He was kind of flattered he was opening so much. He hardly spared him any details about himself when they first had coffee together. Alfred smiled, even if he couldn't see it. "It's okay, Artie."

"...Artie?"

Alfred felt his face heat up a little. "Uh, do people not call you that?"

"Not generally, no. Only my mother ever did that," he said. For a moment Alfred thought he'd upset him, but Arthur sounded as if he were only stating facts, so he went with a simple, "Oh. Cool." when he responded.

He could practically hear Arthur roll his eyes, even though he didn't really say anything after that.

"Um, Alfred?"

"Mm?"

"Goodnight."

He smiled again. "Goodnight, Artie!"


	5. Double Date (?)

**AUTHOR NOTE uuuh thinking about rewriting chapter one but cant make up my mind. probably wont do it bc im a lazy lazy man... anyway,... this chapter... was very hard to write.. didnt rly know what i was doing x_x but uuuh just wanted to add that. thanks for reading sorry this chapter took a while and stuff..**

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It was Matthew's idea- and that stupid friend of his', Francis. Francis was an alright dude, but he was really irritating sometimes. Alfred thought he was way too touchy-feely, but he was friendly, at least. Mostly, he was glad someone was paying any attention to his brother. Most people kind of forgot he existed.

Matthew and Francis wanted to take him to the movie's, with a friend of Francis'. Apparently, they thought they could both use some friends- and they didn't want to be alone at the movies together maybe? He supposed that made some sense; they lived in a pretty conservative town, but the pair looked almost like they could be brothers, if he took off his glasses and really squinted. Well, they were both blonde. Regardless, he doubted anyone would get the wrong idea, or whatever. Those two were kind of weird together, though.

Alfred had agreed to go pretty easily. He'd put up a front that he wasn't interested, mostly just to mess with Matthew. _"Oh, I don't knoooooooow, Mattie..."_

Then, he'd offered to pay for burgers afterwards. Alfred agreed immediately then. _"Oh, what? McD*nalds? Score! You're the best, Mattie!"_

Now, though, he was walking alongside his younger brother to the theater and he was starting to actually regret his decision a little bit. Any friend of Francis' was probably kind of a weirdo. At the very least, they should be interesting.

As they approached, Alfred could make out two blonde figures standing in front of the theater, and immediately recognized the longer haired man to be Matthew's french friend. As he got closer, he recognized the other man, too. He hadn't seen Arthur in person since they'd had coffee.

He punched Matthew in the arm, more out of excitement than any sort of anger. "Ow," he mumbled, barely audible over Alfred's exclamation: "Dude, I know him! That's Arthur!"

Matthew rubbed his arm. "Al... wait, that guy you're always talking to on the phone?"

Alfred blushed and hoped Matthew didn't notice. He made it sound so girly. "No! Not always! But, uh, yeah, that's him!"

"Huh," was all he said back. Arthur and Francis were watching them now, alerted to their arrival by his obnoxious outburst. Sometimes, he really had no self-awareness as to how loud he could be. Arthur seemed just as surprised to see Alfred, though.

"It's you," was all he said. He didn't look very excited to see him. Nervous, maybe.

"Yep! How've ya been?"

Before Arthur could reply, Francis interjected. "You know each other already?"

"Apparently so," said Arthur. He sounded lost in thought. "How in the world do you know Francis? What a coincidence, though..."

"Oh, Matthew introduced us," he said, gesturing to his brother, "and he comes over sometimes."

Francis feigned offense by the implication he was just his brother's friend- or maybe he genuinely was kind of hurt by it, but was obviously playing it down if that was the case.

"Is that all I am to you, Alfred? We _are_ friends, too, aren't we?"

Alfred laughed nervously. "Yeah, man." _If you say so._

Francis smiled, seeming to be placated, and he turned his attention to Matthew. "Have we picked a movie, mon cher?"

Turning to his brother expectantly, he could see he looked a little embarrassed. "I was thinking we could watch R*cky P*cture Horror Show," he stated, then added, "you made it sound very entertaining," quietly, as if he had to somehow justify his decision.

Francis's face lit up. "Ah, wonderful! I promise, you will love it."

Arthur, who had gone quiet, finally spoke again. "The kind of movies you watch are terrible, so I doubt it."

"You can't know that before you've even seen it, Arthur," he insisted, "this one is different!"

"If you say so," Arthur conceded, which sort of surprised both Alfred and Francis. He wasn't usually so quick to drop incoming arguments, no matter how petty. When he did, it was more along the lines of demanding the other person "shut up."

Matthew approached the ticket box nervously and requested four tickets to the movie. When it came time to pay, Francis insisted it was his treat, and covered the costs. He even paid for Alfred's large popcorn and soda, and a bit of candy for everyone else. He could be a pretty cool dude when he wanted to be.

Once in the screening room, Francis made sure to sit next to both Matthew and Arthur. The seat next to Arthur was the only option, so Alfred took it. Arthur barely spared him a glance. He'd been pretty quiet so far, actually, and suddenly he felt worry spark up in the corners of his mind. Did he do something wrong? Was he mad at him? Maybe something had gone wrong otherwise, in his personal life. Maybe he was overthinking it.

Throughout the film, Alfred found himself returning to these thoughts and he grew unable to enjoy the movie. Something was definitely wrong; Arthur really did seem off today.

In the later half of the movie, Alfred tugged on Arthur's sleeve to get his attention. When Arthur gave him a quizzical look, he leaned in to whisper.

"Is something up? You okay, man?" he tried to ask about it as if he'd just noticed and hadn't been thinking about it for the entire duration of the movie thus far.

It was dark, and hard to tell, but for a moment he looked torn. But only a moment; irritated, Arthur hissed back, "I'm fine. Shut up and watch the movie."

 _Jeez._ Alfred shifted back to face the front of the room and immediately found he'd decided didn't even like this movie. There was too much singing. He didn't really like musicals, and he was kind of surprised Francis apparently did. He was under the impression he only liked black-and-white artsy films with no less than three different sex scenes. Alfred would much rather watch movies with lots of explosions and action. Like St*r W*rs, he really enjoyed watching those movies.

Throughout the rest of the film, Alfred found himself intermittently obsessing over Arthur's mood. He wasn't enjoying the movie, and therefore it wasn't much of a distraction to him from the embodied mass of tension resting beside him. The entire duration from then on of the movie was further made uneasy for him, an air of tension settling around the pair that he wasn't sure anyone else in their little group had picked up on.

Glancing at Matthew towards the end of the film, he could tell he must not have; he was smiling, and whispering to Francis about what he thought about the movie. He seemed to have enjoyed it, despite its being a musical. He knew Matthew didn't care much for them either.

When the credits finally rolled, Alfred felt a sense of relief wash over him. Of course, he had to take a piss before he could do anything else, though. He stood almost immediately. "Excuse me, guys, too much soda," he quickly murmured before rushing out of the screening room.

After he had relieved himself, he met up with his brother, Arthur, and Francis in the lobby. Arthur looked right at him, then pretended like he hadn't noticed. Not that it really mattered, since the others picked up on his presence as a result. "Seriously, guys, none of you had to go? I always have to go."

Alfred was oblivious to Arthur's prudish attitudes, then. He gave him a weird look when he scoffed at the unnecessary information.

"Well, Al, you ordered the largest soda on the menu," said Matthew.

"Forget about that, what did you think of the movie?" Francis excitedly redirected the conversation.

"It wasn't... my thing, ha."

Francis' face fell, and fell further when Arthur spoke for one of those rare moments that night to agree.

"I liked it," Matthew quickly added upon seeing his friend's disappointment, earning him a small smile.

"I knew you would," he said, and suddenly he was giving Alfred's brother that weird look he'd give him sometimes. It always made Alfred want to squirm, even though it didn't seem to bother Matthew.

Arthur groaned suddenly at him. He could've sworn he'd heard him mutter a "shut up." Alfred frowned at him, and Arthur blushed. He hadn't meant to be heard, apparently.

The group split up after going for lunch, and Alfred was grateful for this; Francis and Matthew went back to his place to play board games or whatever those two did with their time, which left Alfred alone with Arthur.

"Well, this was a... nice outing," he said, gesturing to the McD*nald's building behind them once they exited. "I suppose I'll be going home now. Thanks for having me... out."

"Uh, wait, Arthur," he blurted, "let me walk with you."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "I'll be fine. I can take care of myself, Al."

"No, there's monsters out at this time!" he tried beaming at him now. He'd been told he had a nice smile, and people had a hard time saying "no" to that.

Arthur sighed, and he took that as a yes.

So they walked together, to Arthur's place, and it was a little warm and very quiet for the first minute or so, until finally Alfred tried again to get him to open up.

"So... are you gonna tell me what's going on with you today?"

Arthur huffed. "No."

"Why not?" he whined back. So there was something wrong. That kind of worried him.

"Just... because! I don't know!" and he sounded so exasperated, that Alfred kind of believed him. Feeling a sympathetic pang in his chest, he pulled him into a weird half-hug and stopped walking.

He could feel Arthur freeze up, but he didn't let go. "Well, whatever it is, I hope you feel better soon, dude."

Alfred almost let go until Arthur sort of hugged him back. "Thank you," he whispered. When Alfred pulled back, he could see he looked much lighter, in a sense. He couldn't help but feel a sort of pride at this; and tried smiling at him again- which Arthur returned this time.


	6. Guitar

**AUTHOR NOTE hhuuuuuuh its been a while lol.. this is just something thats been sitting in my writing folder finally put together .. just wanna post something to show i dont intend to abandon this story.. just feel like i should rewrite what i have so far but dont rly have time with work. but i wanna find the time! this is super short and not edited but thanks for reading anyway**

Alfred jumped at the phone when it rang. It had only been a couple days, but it had felt more like a week when Arthur finally called again. He'd seemed off the last time they'd spoken, and he wanted to give him some space to deal with whatever it was.

"Hello?" he practically shouted into the phone, causing the caller to yelp in surprise.

"Don't-don't do that, you- just! Don't!" By the voice, he could already tell it was Arthur.

"Ha ha, my bad! Dude, how are you? Are you good?"

"Yes, I'm just fine," said Arthur. He cleared his throat, "Actually, I was wondering if you would like to come over to my place. Today. If you have time."

Alfred was practically blown away by the offer. "Uh, yeah, I'd love to but... but why? Is everything okay?"

"We're friends, aren't we? Don't friends visit?" Alfred could hear the eye-roll in his tone, but he did sound nervous.

"Well, duh! But..."

"If you're worried about the movies, I assure you I'm feeling better now. Just... be here, before I change my mind!"

He couldn't help but to smile the widest he had in a few days. "Yeah, I'll be there! Uh- now?"

"Whenever. Now's fine."

"Now!"

"Oh, okay, see you the-"

"Seeya!" he hung up the phone and leaped up from the couch to sprint to his room and hurriedly get dressed.

* * *

He looked silly. A wiry frame, bony and all right angles with a six-string slung over it, dressed like it was Sunday. I had to fight the urge to snort at him. Arthur was an old soul; a crotchety, ornery old man trapped in the body of a twenty-three year old recluse. _Each Arthur year is at least, like, 5 human years. Probably._

Arthur looked at me nervously, his cheeks a little red. "I haven't played in a while, so... I may be a tad rusty."

"I still can't believe it. You play guitar," I said, and grinned. Every new thing I learned about him was so damn fascinating. Somehow, it struck me as hilarious he'd ever dreamed of being a rock star. Somehow, it also struck me as sad that by twenty-three he'd already given up. Overall, it was endearing.

When he played, Arthur proved to be surprisingly good with the instrument. He made a few mistakes, more than would be usual for someone like him. Otherwise, he held up quite well. I was impressed.

"Wow! You're pretty good," I complimented him once he finished. He opened his mouth, presumably to either protest or brag. I interrupted before he could do either. "Why'd you quit?"

His expression morphed into what was almost confusion, but was ultimately unreadable. I suppose it was a strange shift in tone on my part, but soon his face settled on looking resigned.

"I don't want to talk about it," he said.

"Aww, don't be like that! Tell me!"

"There's not much to tell. One day, I just grew up. I got realistic," Arthur reluctantly said after he let out a sigh. His answer felt like a cop-out and I felt like he was omitting quite a bit, but I opted not to press the matter further. I didn't want to spoil his good mood. _I'm lucky he even played for me! I'm not gonna push that luck._

"If you say so, dude."

"Don't call me dude," he smiled. _Good mood preserved._

Arthur played a few more songs for me, feigning annoyance at each silly request. I could tell he was enjoying himself, though. If he really didn't want to play, he probably wouldn't, considering it'd been so long.

Eventually, he did insist he was tired of playing. I'd seen it coming, but I was disappointed nonetheless.

"Ha, alright," I said, and we went quiet. He was smiling nervously. "You should play more," I finally said. I'd been thinking it since I heard him play the first song, stuttered out on metal strings.

Arthur looked a little pink.

"Uh, yeah? You think so?" he sounded uncharacteristically unsure of himself. I shoved away the thought that it was almost... endearing. What was he suddenly shy for? I felt my cheeks tingle at that.

"Yeah! Maybe I could play with you, too," I said in an awkward attempt to distract myself, proceeding to launch myself into a spiel about how I played a mean air guitar, or maybe I could play pots as drums, or my 3rd grade music class recorder...

Arthur told me none of those things sounded like good ideas, but he laughed, and I did, too. I also made a mental note to play a screechy recorder version of hot-cross-buns for him sometime, anyway.


End file.
